It was Annabel who caught at the paper. A gust of irrational impatience blew through her being. “Nor am I going to,” she answered, smiling. He wondered if the young fool had any idea of what he had drawn in this tragic lottery called marriage. ’ ‘Don’t be a fool, woman,’ snapped Charvill, thrusting himself further into the room. Shari’s head poked out of the bathroom where she had been preoccupied with preparations for her morning shower. "Adieu, my worthy uncle. “You needn’t be worried,” she said quietly. "How?" cried her brother, starting.
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